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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246694">Returning To What We Left Behind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilbruh/pseuds/wilbruh'>wilbruh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Us Against The World [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Death, F/M, Philza Minecraft's B- Parenting, Protective Wilbur Soot, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Romance, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Wilbur Soot is Tommy's Father, but shes still relevant, hehe, ok so she died in the first part of this series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:02:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilbruh/pseuds/wilbruh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was two weeks old when he returned home. Phil was the one to open the door when he knocked.</p><p>“Hi dad.” He said, tiredness seeping into his bones. He was home, and she was not here with him.</p><p>.</p><p>Or, Wilbur returns home to bury his wife's remains, reconnect with his father, and to figure out where he goes from there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niki | Nihachu &amp; Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Us Against The World [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>250</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Returning Home.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>holy FUCK im on a roll</p><p>hehe part 2 expect soon my dudes</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur couldn’t let himself break. Not yet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy seemed content with staying in his arms or near Wilbur at all times. It was quite hard to do much of anything really, because if he set the baby down and moved away, Tommy would start wailing his little lungs out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur wished he could scream his head off too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to go home. He couldn’t do this by himself. So he quit his job. He was going to move back to their sleepy little village.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Might as well face the consequences and go home. He told Clementine that home was wherever she was, once upon a time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Home was now wherever Tommy was, he decided, when the little bundle in his arms closed his hands into little fists and let out a soft wail. Home was wherever Tommy was, he was certain as he fed Tommy some milk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He quit his job, not bothering to give his boss a valid reason why, nor giving them a few week’s notice. He wanted to go back as soon as possible. The last of the rent money went to cremating her. Her ashes now sat in a small wooden box, as he could not afford anything more. He wished he could have buried her in the clearing, but this was the best he could do. He'd have to settle for spreading her ashes when they got home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur couldn’t let himself break. Tommy needed him. His son was all he had left of her, all he had left of her spirit. Sure, he had her sword and her ring and the pendant he had given her of his father’s family crest, but when he looked into Tommy’s bright blue eyes, all he could see was her. Tommy had her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had to clean out the apartment. Luckily, they had been renting the apartment furnished, so all he really had to do was pack up what he could and donate the rest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He kept her favourite sweater. It was old, the yellow faded from years of wear. Once upon a time it had been Wilbur’s, but Clementine had stolen it without intent of giving it back. She used to wear it when she was upset. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It still fucking smelled like her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At some point, he had decided to wrap Tommy into the sweater while he cleaned. Their son seemed content to fall asleep bundled in the sweater of his mother. Wilbur wondered if it was the closest thing Tommy would ever get to falling asleep in her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur had a feeling that he would grow up to look just like her. (It was only when Tommy would turn into a teenager that he would realise just how correct he was, that Tommy not only looked like her, but he also acted so much like his mother. It shattered Wilbur’s heart just like it did now when he remembered that their son would never understand just how alike they were.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t quite sure how he would feel about that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He donated anything he couldn’t shove into his bag. Most of her clothes were gone, save for the dress she wore at their wedding and the sweater that Tommy never seemed to leave. Most of her trinkets however, were carefully wrapped in the extra clothes of his that he carefully packed between what he hoped to be enough provisions for him and enough baby formula for Tommy. It had taken Wilbur and Clementine a week to reach the city, but he did not know how long it would take for him to return, especially when he was traveling with a baby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to say goodbye to Schlatt. The ram hybrid had been nothing but a good friend since they met him and Wilbur did not want to just leave without notice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The problem was that Wilbur had been avoiding the man since the night he came home. Schlatt had caught him on the way up to his apartment, and Wilbur practically broke down. Told him how Clementine was gone, how Tommy was all he had left. Schlatt had been named godfather, and Wilbur made sure that Schlatt understood that if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>were to happen to him, Schlatt would be the one to take care of his son. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After that meeting on the stairs, he had been avoiding his friend. To be fair, it wasn’t like Wilbur had left the apartment much. Besides to go get food and some things for Tommy, Wilbur never left. Until he started packing, he spent the first few nights with his son laying on his bed. He only got up to take care of any needs that Tommy had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was only living for Tommy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he was ready to leave, he scribbled his goodbye for Schlatt on a note and slid it under the ram’s door, his father’s address included. He was leaving with no proper goodbye, his wife’s sword strapped to his belt, his guitar strapped to his back underneath his bag and his son tucked into his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was two weeks old when he returned to the village. His wife’s wedding ring sat across his neck with the pendant he had gifted her for her birthday. His own ring stayed on his finger, never taken off. (He had only been married to her for two goddamn months, there was no way in hell he was taking it off. Clementine’s ashes sat heavy in their box, carefully packed into his bag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their son squirmed in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It hadn’t been long since Wilbur had been home, only seven or eight months since they had ran away. It still felt so foreign to him when he returned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He zeroed in on the bakery, where he knew his friends would be. Fuck, they had left without saying goodbye, hadn’t they?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bakery hadn’t changed, still as cozy as ever. The village square seemed just as lively as it had always been, with people going about their daily business. He remembered dragging Clementine to one of the stalls here and buying her roses. She informed him that she hated them, that she’d rather have flowers picked fresh from the forest. He never bought her flowers again. From that day on, he only presented her with the wild flowers and daisies that grew in their clearing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Will? Is that you?” A voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He turned to see one of his best friends leaving the bakery, Niki, wiping her hands on her apron.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He barely managed a “Hey Niki-” in response before she practically tackled him in a hug, no care for the bundle he was holding or the way he couldn’t hold her back since she pinned his arms against his chest. Had Niki always been this short?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She still smelled like freshly baked bread.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You bastard!” She cried, pulling away. “You two have been gone for so long!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only been seven months. Niki. I’m back.” If she picked up the ‘I’ instead of ‘we’, she made no comment. She zeroed in on the squirming bundle of yellow sweater in his arms and started to coo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s so precious!” She scooped Tommy into her arms. “What’s his name?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled softly, the memory of them deciding the name still fresh in his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thomas is a shit name.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We named him Thomas, but Clem insisted on Tommy. She thought that Thomas was a shit name.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he the reason you two left?” She asked quietly. Wilbur nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat. “She was pregnant?” He could only nod again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After cooing at Tommy for a minute, she seemed to realise that something was missing. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>was missing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is Clem anyway? Did she stop by her house first?” She asked. It made sense that she would ask, before they left Wilbur and Clementine seemed to be attached at the hip. She was Niki’s best friend too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine uh, she didn’t make it. “ He choked out, the lump getting hard to ignore. He had to fight against the tears pricking his eyes. “She died giving birth to him. Something to do with her body not being able to handle it. I was blanking out through most of the explanation if I’m being honest. She’s gone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Niki’s composure seemed to crumple. “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She straightened up and gently handed Tommy back. “I’d imagine you want to go home first?” At his nod (it’s all he seemed to be able to do now) She continued. “You’re lucky then. Phil and Techno got back from their hunting trip yesterday.” She hummed. “They’ve been leaving a lot since you left. You are very lucky that they came back so early. You should head home in case they decide to leave again today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’ll tell Eret hello for you. You should go home now, Will. Techno really missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was two weeks old when he returned home. Phil was the one to open the door when he knocked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi dad.” He said, tiredness seeping into his bones. He was home, and she was not here with him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Facing What We Didn't Want To.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was three weeks old when Wilbur had the courage to finally take Tommy and drag himself to his family-in-law.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uh oh he gotta go home what he gonna do</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Phil opened the door, seeing his runaway son was not what he expected to find.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He especially didn’t expect his runaway son with a baby in his arms and the woman he thought of as his own daughter sometimes not at his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Will?” His son looked terrible. He looked so tired. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi dad.” Wilbur sighed, his shoulders drooping from releasing tension.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil ushered his son inside and set him on the couch. He carefully took his grandson from Wilbur’s arms and held him close.</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“His name is Thomas. Thomas Theseus Soot. Clementine insisted we called him Tommy though ‘cos she thought Thomas was a shit name.” Wilbur whispered. He looked so fucking tired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Soot?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clem didn't want to change her name unless we decided on a surname we both liked. We settled on Soot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil stopped rocking Tommy to look at his son. “Change her name? Why would she need to change her name?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will had the audacity to look sheepish as he raised his hand to show the ring on his finger. “We got married. Couldn’t get the love of my life pregnant and not marry her could I?” He smiled softly, as though he was remembering something. “I think I said the same thing to her when I proposed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur Watson, are you telling me you decided that the best thing to do when getting a girl pregnant was to marry her? Will that’s why me and </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>mother got divorced.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur’s face fell. Phil swore he could see the hint of tears gathering in his son’s eyes. “Dad, it’s not like we have to worry about getting divorced any time soon. Clementine is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur fell asleep in his bed not long after. He made sure Tommy was fed, that he had been burped and changed. Then he crawled into his bed, left the way he had left it when he left, curled up after making sure his son was comfortable and supported, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so tired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had hoped, upon waking up, that he would be in his bed in his apartment, with his wife sleeping at his side and his son in his crib. That was not the case.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He woke up to Tommy wailing in Techno’s arms, his twin clearly unsure what to do with the baby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur what the fuck do I do? How do I get him to shut up?” Techno hissed once he noticed his brother was awake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur groaned and swung his legs over the bed. He rolled his neck out, then held out his arms. “Give him to me.” Techno was quick to follow the order. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gently rocked his son in his arms, Tommy quieting almost immediately. “That’s it Toms. I’m here. What's wrong?” He ignored the way Techno looked at him, ignored his father at the door. “I know bud, I miss her too. Do you want the sweater?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy didn't respond. Wilbur found the sweater on his bed and wrapped it around him anyway. Tommy seemed to fall asleep not long after, Wilbur rocking his son until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t peg you for a softy Will.” Techno hummed. “Though I should have guessed, with the amount of times I’ve seen you just staring at Clementine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say her name.” Wilbur muttered, setting his son against the pillow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not? Did somethin’ happen between the two of you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Techno, shut up. I don’t want to talk about her right now.” If his brother didn’t shut the fuck up soon he was going to get decked in the mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Techno, mate-” Their father went ignored. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did she leave you? Is that why you don’t want to talk about her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s it. Wilbur launched up and smashed his fist into Techno’s mouth. “She’s fucking dead, asshole. Clem didn’t make it through the birth.” He snarled at his brother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno looked like he was about to retaliate but Phil grabbed his shoulder. “Boys, maybe we should have this fight when the baby is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not in the room with us?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur scoffed but he let his father drag him down the living room. His father prepared the kettle on the stove while Techno and Wilbur stared each other down on the couches.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clem died?” Phil asked, when he returned. He handed a cup of coffee to both of them and set his own on the side table besides his chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded. “Something went wrong, and she bled out. She didn’t make it through the birth. She didn’t even get to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.” He fought back tears. “We were supposed to be a family, dad. That’s why we left. She wanted to prove to her parents that she wasn’t helpless and that she could handle raising a kid.” That stupid ass lump in his throat was back. “Her mom was going to make her abort him but she didn’t want that. So we left. Fat load of good leaving did though, since now she's fucking gone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down his face when he choked back a sob. “We were living in this tiny apartment that didn’t even have running water let alone hot water and we were so cold at night but she loved it, you know? It was ours and we were free against the world. I got this job working down in a trainyard to fix the broken rails and shit. It paid decently, and she planned on finding somewhere to work once Tommy was old enough so we could find somewhere better. We wanted to raise him </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she didn’t even get to hold the son she died giving birth to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t register his father coming over to wrap his wings around him. He didn’t register his brother either, who came over and leaned against his other side as he cried himself to sleep once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was three weeks old when Wilbur had the courage to finally take Tommy and drag himself to his family-in-law.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Charles Innit was not the most approachable of people. He sure as hell never approved of Wilbur and Wilbur hadn’t seen the man since before he got Clementine pregnant. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With shaking hands he knocked on the door, his son firmly against his chest, his big blue eyes taking in the world around him. Wilbur wanted to hate those eyes, they were so much like hers, but he couldn’t bring himself to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened and he found himself face to face with Clementine’s older sister, Cara. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell do you think you’re doing on my property?” Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur turned around to look Clem’s father in the face. Charles Innit looked down at the baby, up at Wilbur, and his face darkened. “Where the hell is my daughter?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine didn’t make it. She died during the birth.” It was getting too fucking easy to say that and Wilbur hated it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My daughter </span>
  <em>
    <span>died? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You knocked her up then then have the audacity to show your scummy face and tell me she’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The man howled. He got up into Wilbur’s face, practically nose to nose. “You listen here boy. If I see your face near my fucking family again I will rip you apart and that damned baby of yours too. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to see you again. That child should have never been born and it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault she is dead. Your fault, you hear me?” When Wilbur nodded he stepped back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get the fuck off my property.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was seventeen and Tommy was four weeks old when Wilbur finally scattered his wife’s ashes. In their clearing, he drove her sword into the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Next to the sword he planted a sapling. It was a simple oak sapling, nothing fancy. He opened the box of her ashes and gently scattered them over the soil below the sapling. Her spirit would remain with the tree, in the clearing that they had loved and loved in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(In the clearing that they may or may not have conceived Tommy in, but no one needed to know that piece of information.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, scooped up his son and held him close. Wilbur had to keep living. For her, and for him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hehe</p>
<p>dunno when next part of the story will be. probably will write some drabbles next, then focus on plot later</p>
<p>i toned down the angst just for u, those of u in the writers block that ive been uh</p>
<p>torturing :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yeah wilbur goes thru a lot in this series expect a lot of sadness</p><p>this chapters title in my drafts was "wilbur dragging his sorry ass home pt 1"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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